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"Alrighty Plump." You say, carefully kneeling down. "Get on." She climbs atop of your shoulders, extending both of your reaches by quite a bit. As you carefully get up, as to make sure she doesn't fall, she takes swipes at the object atop the tree with her trusty bone. As you and her try to keep balance to collect said object, you hear another ghostly giggle.

You carefully carry a Dusk Ball in your hand, finding it all the more difficult to do this while balancing your childhood companion. You hear the laughter behind you and you try to turn about, barely keeping your balance as the Mismagious looks at you with a playful grin on her face.
She extends a ghostly hand, as if to push you. "No." You tell her. She looks puzzled. "No." You repeat, hoping she'll actually listen to you. Plump makes one last, hard swipe, knocking the object down, but throwing your balance out of wack. The Mismagious only had to tap you to knock you and your dear friend down atop each-other. The item falls out of the tree next to you, revealing itself to be a useless rock.
Honestly, if you knew this is what you were facing, you'd have prefered the Serial Killer.

Getting up, you toss the grey stone ghost-ward. It phases through her and she starts laughing even harder. It was a cruel, twisted laugh, unlike her playful, giggly one. Plump seems to be growling as you finally lob the sphere at her. You never know if it hit her, as you are struck first. As you hit the ground Plump runs to your side, trying in vain to help you up. A strike with a lead pipe knocks her away, before a figure in a grey trench coat enters your line of sight and violently stomps you unconscious.

You awake strapped to a bed, Plump is on your left side. It is a queen-sized bed, leaving much room between you two. The ceiling above you is a cold and empty pale blue. On the right of you lay your stuff (A Camera, Dusk Balls, pocket change, a signed baseball, canned Pokemon food, and a lighter) in a tray on a windowsill. The window provides an overlook of the town below. To the left of Plump is her stuff (Her bone, the bus pass, and the mysterious item, which turns out to just be a piece of paper), a closed and locked door, and several more beds.

"Plump, see if you could chew through these ropes." You tell her. She nods and tries to reach them, failing terribly. The tip of her skull barely reaches it. "It's OK girl..." You reassure her before turning to the windowsill. Surely someone would notice you missing... right?

TWO DAYS PASS
You stand in the darkness of an old apartment, the place is filthy, clothes and empty Pokemon food cans cover everything but a few boxes and a bed. Whoever owned this place was a real slob. Harry Skipper, you think the person called him... whatever. You adjust your police cap and sigh, keeping your gun close while your Scizor keeps people from contaminating the place.

You are a policewoman, with the force for fifteen years. You were assigned to solve this missing person's case, reported after this guy missed two days of work, unexcused. You have a police baton, a walkie talkie, and a notpad for investigation.
Your Scizor has been with you for ten of those years, keeping itself with you in any way it can. You think he may be a bit overprotective though...
He has the Technician ability, and knows Metal Claw, Agility, Cut, and Bug Buzz. He is carrying a Metal Coat.
What is your names?

You look around the apartment, only two rooms are present, although the bed is separated from the kitchen by a dividing wall. The piles of junk in the kitchen are much smaller than those in the main room. A door, presumably leading to a balcony is in front of you. To your right is the door to the restroom, locked for some reason. On his bed lay brown fur and black hair, as well as a few bundled up pieces of paper.

You unbundle the papers. Inside appear to be rejection letters from several locations of employment. You note down one, the Pokemon Sanctuary, has been torn into pieces before being curled up. You make a note to investigate this further.

You knock on the bathroom door and hear no answer. Either someone's asleep in there or no one's in there at all. You ponder who would lock the bathroom door to an apartment, but not the front.
As you ponder this inquiry another officer walks up to you. He's a rookie, and hadn't been allowed to bring a Pokemon. Derrick was his name, not a bright man, but he at least knows the difference between a suspect and civilian.

You look over the man's night stand, containing a clock radio, which upon being turned on, was proven to be tuned into a channel that ran the local lottery. This poor man probably prayed his trainer card would be picked so he could eat a decent meal for once.

"Snipper." You say, catching his attention. "Get over here will ya?" He nodded and approached, leaving the door unguarded. "On the count of three, you and me are going to barge down this door, ok?" You ask, making sure he's caught on.
"Sci." He answered, nodding and looking at the door. At the count of three you and your partner ram into the door, loosening it slightly.
"Once more." You tell him, before going again and ramming into it. As the door goes on its hinges you enter the bathroom. It's small and cramped, his toilet is empty, save for a wallet floating in the bowl. You give him the benefit of the doubt and assume it fell in when you knocked the door down. The shower is empty, save for some hair clogging the drain, both brown and black. On the sink lay a few odds and ends, a toothbrush and a Pokemon brush laying on it. The medicine cabinet is lightly ajar and a wire hangs idly from it.

You sigh and take the wallet from the toilet. As you shake it off you notice a jingle emerging from it. Opening it, you find that it contains a key. You assume it's not to his apartment, as it has the initials for the Newspaper he worked on engraved into it. The wallet also contained a small photo of a man and his Marowak. You pocket both for future examination.

You approach the cabinet, wary for anything out of the norm. You carefully pull it open and find a hole in the wall leading to the neighboring apartment. The wire leads to a television the neighbor gazes upon restlessly. You believe that someone is using his wire to pirate cable through Smith's apartment, irrelevant to the case, but interesting to say the very least. Other than the hole in the wall, the cabinet only contains a half-eaten granola bar.

You leave the bathroom, shutting the door as well.
"Derrick?" You ask, entering the room.
"Yeah?"
"You find anything?"
"Oh, yeah! He's got a schedule up on his fridge." He passes you a notepad with a a few messy words on it. You sigh, his hand-writing's terrible. Personally, you suspect that his Marowak was the one that wrote this down. You make out that he'd planned on going to a convenience store during his lunch though. Perhaps that would be a good place to go... The place is swept and back-up has come to bag the rest of evidence.
Looking over the evidence you decipher he was planning to go to His Job (obviously), a Convenience Store, and the Pokemon Sanctuary.
Where will you go?

"Derrick, Snipper. We're moving on." The two nod and follow you to the Police car. Snipper sits in the passenger seat, Derrick sits in back.
"Why does he get to sit up there?" Derrick would always ask.
"Because he doesn't mess with the radio." You'd always answer. In reality, Snipper doesn't like being in his Pokeball and you decided to make the best to stay on his good side. As you start up the car and head over to the Newspaper Offices, you see Snipper glaring at himself in the rearview mirror. Rolling your eyes and adjusting it, you also note Derrick fiddling with handcuffs. It's gonna be a long case.

Five minutes pass and the three of you make it to the building. As you open the office door, a repugnant smell fills your nose. As you open it further, you realize this man's office had been moved into the janitor's closet. The Janitor's locker is to the west of you. To the north lay an awfully messy desk. Before you are various posters of questionable nature. To the south is the exit.

Snipper follows you, investigating whatever can fit into his claws. On the top of the desk lays an empty bottle, some change, a few crumpled up notes, a framed photo, a broken camera, and some kind of small notebook.
The desk has three drawers; two on the sides, one under the main desk. You ponder if there is a word for that kind of drawer.

Opening the locker, the stench grows stronger. Thankfully, it's being emitted by the open bottles of chemicals, and not something disgusting and/or terrifying. A lone jumpsuit hangs there and the pockets bulge with something. Derrick makes a disgusted sound as he covers his nose.
"Ergh, I'd hate to work here..."
"Yeah, I don't see any source of fresh air. I bet whoever worked here is growing tumors as we speak..."
"Remind me to call up OSHA."

Unfortunately, unlike the Holmes novel this man lacks pencils, crayons, pens, or chalk that could be used for this predicament. As luck would have it, the drawers are empty, save for a photo of his Marowak, an old, broken X-Receiver (probably the janitor's), a mirror, and a filthy Pokedoll.

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